Everything I believed was a lie. Everything except for her, the one person I blamed for it all.

MacKayla Simone was beautiful. She was sexy as hell. She was also the setup.

One night.

Sex that rocked my world.

Rocked it to its very foundations because the next thing I knew, she and I made the headlines of every paper, every news channel across the country, and it cost me everything.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. That came when I learned who was behind the setup. That was when I understood what it meant to be destroyed absolutely.

I don’t know why I went after MacKayla. She’d been a pawn just like me. But it was all I could do, all I had left. Hell, it was the one thing keeping me from tumbling into the abyss and never coming back into the light.

Find her. Find the girl who’d f*cked me. Find her, and make her pay.

MacKayla

I didn’t know who Slater Vaughn was, but if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Not when my sister was in trouble. I would have done what I did anyway. You can judge me. You can call me a whore. But I would have done it anyway.

One night, they’d said. Make him want you, let him have you. Easiest money in the world for just one night of my life.

Only it wasn’t one night because that night obliterated Slater Vaughn, and he came after me. He told me I owed him, and truthfully, I did. Hell, maybe those years in hiding, I’d been waiting for him to find me. To punish me. To make me pay.

Maybe I sought his forgiveness all along.

But now that he had me, how far would he take this game? Slater Vaughn was a broken man. He had nothing left to lose. What was to keep him from taking me with him into his darkness?

About Natasha Knight

USA Today Bestselling author Natasha Knight writes dark romance as well as spanking romance in a variety of genres including contemporary, paranormal, post-apocalyptic, science-fiction and fantasy. She is a #1 Amazon Bestseller in multiple categories forever searching in every story for that single most important element of love. All of her stories contain at least one kinky Alpha male, lots of dirty talk and a well deserved happily ever after.

Ethan Jager is forced to hide behind a false identity as his pack mates suffer under Michael Tanner’s rule. It’s not his choice; he was born broken, without the primitive urge to breed driving him to pick a mate.

While his wolf sleeps, his heart has chosen for him: Noah, widower and fellow pack dominant.

Everything changes the day Hannah Kagan smiles at him. Lust awakens his wolf–a first. Hannah is beautiful, loyal, kind, everything an alpha male should want. And mating her will allow him to reclaim his pack. It will also leave his soul with a giant hole when he’s forced to rip Noah out of his life.

Hard choices are required of alpha males, but choosing which lover to let go is one Ethan refuses to make. The alternative will not only change the pack, but transform their world…if he can keep his mates alive long enough to claim them both.

“Are you done imagining what I would look like naked, or do you want me to stand here longer?” His rough voice zinged through her, setting her on edge. Not in a bad way. Awareness settled low. She ignored the instant arousal and yanked her gaze to his face. Green eyes framed by dark lashes snared her attention.
She inhaled sharply. Never before had she seen a shifter with green eyes. The rare gene offered power, just as the combination of her black hair and blue eyes gifted her with strength.
She let her gaze map his face as she had his body. Dark blond hair set off the deep emerald color of his eyes and framed a harsh face, but his shaggy locks softened his features. She doubted he’d styled it on purpose for the effect. The uneven ends gave the impression he’d hacked it off with scissors and didn’t give a shit if it looked nice or not.
The shadow of his beard added to the image of indifference. The uneven growth covered his cheeks, chin, and neck. Her fingertips itched to touch his jaw and see if the stubble had reached the point of softness or if it would tickle her skin and make her squirm. She curled her fingers and fought to contain her runaway thoughts. They weren’t appropriate, especially after being in Ethan’s arms. She swore she could still smell him on her skin.
The Tanner wolf chuckled, breaking the trance he’d cast over her. She tore her attention from the cleft in his chin to his eyes.
“Hello, little Hannah Kagan. What brings you to this shithole town?”
She took a step forward, anger replacing the lust. “Don’t ever call me little.”
The growl to her voice shocked her. It took the Tanner wolf by surprise too. His smirk faded instantly, and his cocky stance eased. He tilted his head and studied her as if seeing her for the first time. Something flashed in his green eyes. Respect, maybe? She didn’t know. Didn’t care. She took another step.
“And why I’m here is none of your fucking business.”

A true romantic at heart, Nancy Corrigan is convinced there’s a knight in shining armor for every woman (or man), but you won’t find damsels in distress in her stories. She adores pairing alpha heroes with women strong enough to match them and bring them to their knees. She also enjoys flipping the traditional roles in romances because her motto is—love and people should never be forced to conform to anyone’s norm.

She holds a degree in chemistry and has worked in research but now focuses on ensuring quality. She considers it the perfect outlet for her as she’s the first to admit she has some OCD tendencies. It carries over into her writing life too. While engrossed in a novel, she has a habit of forgetting to eat and sleep. Fortunately, she’s married to her own knight in shining armor who understands her oddities and loves her anyway. They reside in Pennsylvania with their three children, dog, snake and guinea pigs. Her other interests include tattoos, animals, classic cars and all things spooky and sexy.

Nancy loves to hear from her readers. If you have a comment or question, email her at nancycorriganbooks@outlook.com. She also encourages her readers to leave a review on their purchase site. Even a one line sentence is welcomed.

I’ve always felt the connection, but I just can’t go there. Not with her. She deserves better than what I can offer her. So I drown myself in women and booze, certain I’m doing the right thing, keeping her at a distance.

Or so I thought.

When Lacey tells me about the internship she’s scored with a hotshot criminal attorney, I’m happy for her. This could make her career. If anyone deserves success, it’s her.

Then I learn who her new ‘mentor’ is.

My father.

Now, the secrets I’ve been keeping may cost me the very friendship I’ve been trying to protect.

About Ruby Black

Ruby Black is the pseudonym for a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She likes angsty romance, alpha males, and full bookshelves. Her novel Conflicted will be available April 27, 2016.

Adeline Bruce is chosen to take part in an opportunity of a lifetime–to study under her idol, Dr. Matthew MacStone in Scotland. Never having traveled far from home before, she is consumed with excitement and apprehension, but presses forward. Little does she realize that nothing is as it seems.

Hadrian Balliol is the hottest, most desired eligible bachelor in all of Scotland. His only desire, his secret desire, is the gather all six of the Highland Stones. It is said that he who possesses all six stones will be the key to making Scotland free again. Being in the public eye, everyone know OF him, but no one really knows him…and he likes it that way. That was, he did until he met her.

She changed him from the moment he rested his eyes on her. She was different. He discovered just how different when he learned who she was…
…and that she was the key to his destiny…
….to Scotland’s destiny.

SC Hutchinson has
loved to read since before she could remember. Hamlet, the Phantom of the
Opera, and Stephen King’s It are just a few of the books that ensnared her
imagination as a child.

Having a
preference for paranormal and dark reads, she still finds time to read sweet
books by authors such as Torrie Robles Love
After Pain, though some of her favorite indie authors include: Layla Stevens, Ella Dominguez, C.C Wood, Yara
Greathouse, Gwendolyn Grace, Ashlei Hawley, Haven Anne Lennox, C.M Holloway,
M.M Wolff, and many more.

SC’s first
attempt at writing produced The Highland Stones, Into the Darkness from the
Light, Alabama Sweet Tea, and
a few others. She has since learned from
her mistakes and used both positive and negative experiences to produceLike My Status, a book of which she is very proud.

Reading—and now
writing—is her favorite escape, and it provides him an outlet for when life
gets out of hand.

When I tell men what I look for in a relationship, they either run the other way or think a light spanking during sex is enough to get me off. It isn’t.

The only man who ever understood what I need is a man whose name I don’t even know, and whose face I didn’t even see.

My name is Alexandra Sinclair, and I’m a masochist.

WARNING: If you have ANY kind of trigger, this book is not for you.

After a long bath in the decadent bathroom in my suite at the hotel I dial the concierge to inquire about the nightlife.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks me in French.

I haven’t spoken French with a French since we’ve moved from Paris to Weston what seems like ages ago but which is, really, barely 4 years.

The words come easily, and I flat out tell him what I’m looking for. “Anything kinky will do.”

“Then you’ll surely enjoy the masked ball at the Xpose club. You’re in luck; it’s only once a year. I’ll bring you appropriate attire. Size 0, are you not?”

At 5’1’’ and 105 pounds, yeah, size 0, genius. “Yes,” I say.

***

I’m in my red silk kimono, applying mascara when there’s a knock at my door. I open and the cutest concierge stands before me; tall, blond, with deep, green eyes – a green darker than mine.

I smile instantly, and he hands me a small package. “Do let me know if you’d like something different. I will gladly fetch you something new.”

Fetch? Yeah, I don’t need a lapdog; I want to be the lapdog. “Thank you,” I say. “I’m sure this will be satisfactory,” and as I say the words, I realize with horror that I sound just as pompous as my brother.

The concierge bows, I tip him, and he leaves.

In the package is a pair of silver Troelsens stilettos and matching clutch, a stunning slinky white evening gown, an equally stunning white faux fox scarf, and a white masquerade mask encrusted with zircons. I scoff, insulted that the concierge would hand me fake diamonds, but I realize that a diamond encrusted masquerade mask must not be something readily available, so I forgive him.

I finish my make up with a red lip instead of my usual nude one. My complexion is pale and creamy; with a white dress and a white mask, a nude lip wouldn’t look so sharp.

I stuff my essentials in the clutch, slip on the shoes and the faux fox scarf, grab the mask and get down to the lobby, where the fair haired concierge is waiting at attention. If I can, I’m having some of that blond meat later.

I hop in a cab and ignore the knowing smirk the driver gives me when I tell him where I’m going. He’s in his late twenties, I think. Bit too young for me. I like them about twice my age. Of course, I can make exceptions; musicians, for example. They can be my own age and I’ll happily fuck them. Musicians bring us closer to the divine. To copulate with a musician is sacred.

The Xpose is situated at a dead end. Its door is huge, made of heavy wood, and there are two sconces of real fire illuminating the entry way. Two bodybuilders in white tuxes guard the door, and elegantly dressed, masked patrons are waiting in line. I slip on the mask, give the cab driver a hard hundred and get out of the car.

I spend five hundred to get in the club without waiting and am disappointed when I get past the heavy black curtains.

A few masked couples are going at it, sucking and lapping, a girl with a very nice rack and a fox mask is up on a stage dancing around a steel pole, and that’s it. Nothing exciting is going on, nobody’s getting whipped or anything.

With a sigh I sit at the bar and order a Lagavulin. I down it and order another. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall, dark haired guy but when I turn my head towards him, he’s gone. Shaking my head, I down my second Lagavulin and look at a couple giving one another hand jobs.

I’ve been to orgies before. Not what I had in mind for tonight.

I stretch my neck, about ready to leave, when a terribly tall plague doctor comes my way. I perk up when he sits beside me, and asks, through his mask, “Not what you expected?”

I gasp; I am not fond of masks which cover the entire face. They’re freaky. “No,” I say.

“What were you expecting?”

His voice is muffled but I can tell his French is perfect.

“More whip. Less cock,” I say, staring into two black pools instead of eyes.

A frisson goes through me. I’ve seen eyes like these before. I don’t like it; I look away.

A gloved finger under my chin forces me to look back into the black pools. The plague doctor cocks his head. “What if I were to give you all whip and no cock. Would you enjoy that?”

A smile comes up without me having to force it.

“Very well,” the plague doctor says, stands, and offers me his hand.

I gladly take it, expecting him to take me to one of the back chambers, but to my surprise, he takes me on stage instead. The girl dancing on the pole bows her head and skitters off stage.

The doctor takes my wrists and what seems like out of nowhere, shackles appear. I look up and see the steel grid there, with shackles and ropes and chains ready for use. I smile some more and a soft chuckle comes from the doctor.

He ties me up, places my clutch and scarf on a small table and bends to look me in the eye. “May I touch you?” he asks.

“Of course,” I say.

“Everywhere?”

“Yes.”

“Yell ‘red’ if what I’m doing to you is not enjoyable. Understood?” he asks with the softest voice I’ve ever heard.

I nod, but he repeats, “Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

The doctor runs a gloved finger along my cheek and I imagine somewhere behind his mask, he’s smiling.

Slowly, the doctor walks around me. I keep my eyes up front.

This isn’t my first whipping. I just hope the man knows what he’s doing. I’d take a harsh, well administered whipping over a long hard fuck any day. I’m weird that way.

Soft hands come on my shoulder blades. “Are you scared?”

I say nothing but nod my head.

The doctor grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head back so far I can’t breathe. My heart starts pumping.

He places his other hand over my throat and squeezes.

My nipples start to tingle.

“You should be.”

He lets go of me only to pat my cheek with a weak little slap.

When I look up at the doctor, he cocks his head and it totally reminds me of the movie Halloween. I cringe despite not wanting to, and the doctor caresses the cheek he just slapped. I can’t believe I’ve become such a wuss; afraid of a mask. But, it is what it is. After what happened to Manny and me, I’m now afraid of masks which cover the entire face.

Without a word, the plague doctor unzips the back of my dress and pulls it apart to expose my back. I wait.

And I wait.

I hear him shift, and I hold on to the binds keeping my arms up. I forgot to ask him what he wanted to whip me with. Was it a whip? A flogger? A belt? A crop? A cane?

The doctor yanks my head back again. “I believe I asked you a question.”

He speaks softly, which is way creepier than if he’d yell. Yeah, that guy definitely knows what he’s doing.

“Yes, sir. More to my liking, sir. Thank you, sir,” I say, stopping myself before I say, “May I have another?”

“How many more?”

I smile. “As many as you wish, sir.”

He chuckles. “Tell me, please.”

“Six.” I say. A dozen hits is nothing, but I don’t know what he has planned for after. I may need my strength.

The six blows come in what seems to be one giant hit. They cover all of my back, leaving a stinging burn and I end the string of whacks with a little giggle.

I should have asked for six hundred.

The doctor covers my back with the fluffy side of my scarf and unshackles me.

“Already?” I ask, and he nods.

He wraps an arm around me and accompanies me to a comfy club chair, where he sits with me on his lap. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he asks, and I giggle like a stupid air head, nuzzling his black cape.

He cradles me for a while as someone brings me a sip of water. I down the bottle and rest my head on the doctor’s chest, inhaling his cinnamon-y aroma. That man smells heavenly. I let out an appreciative moan and close my eyes.

I caress down the doctor’s chest and feel hard muscles under the cape and whatever he’s wearing underneath, if he’s wearing anything at all. I straddle his thigh and reach further down his stomach but he stops my hand.

“If you need to hump me like a bitch in heat, do so, but do not touch my cock unless I specifically instructed you to. Understood?” he asks softly.

“Yes, sir,” I say, and hump his thigh until I cum. It doesn’t take long.

Some women take forever to cum and treat each orgasm as if it were a transcendent experience. I envy them, sometimes. I cum so often in a day, an orgasm is as transcendent as brushing my teeth. Still, I need them just as much as I need to eat. Maybe even more.

Barely out of breath after my orgasm I straighten and zip my dress back up myself. Yoga for the win. “What now?” I ask, eager for more.

“Now? You go home, and you call me in the morning,” he says, handing me a business card.

For a second I wonder if that’s my Silver Fox from the plane, but discard the thought. Silver Fox was English. The Doctor is… well his French is impeccable so I guess he must be French.

“Are you serious?” I ask.

He nods.

“I’m leaving Paris tomorrow,” I lie.

“Then you call me before you get on the plane, and we’ll take it from there.”

Actress Olivia Cress used to have a boyfriend—until he got famous, dumped her, and left her to deal with the fall out. Now she’s got only one place to hide from the paparazzi: Gavin Colson’s hotel room.

And Gavin Colson is six feet and change of hard muscled, rough necked, Louisiana Dom. He’s the sexiest man she’s ever seen, and THAT is something that she definitely does not know how to handle. In real life, Olivia doesn’t have a whole lot of experience. And she’s definitely not a sub. …Right?

Olivia is used to playing a role, but Gavin sees right through her. And he wants her. Badly.

Gavin Colson knows a closet sub when he sees one. And this one makes him want to forget every rule he has—even the rules about falling in love. He’ll keep it together, because that’s what he does.

But he’ll have her.

And he’ll show her what she really is.

FIRST NIGHT is a Club Volare novella of about 20,000 words, or 100 pages. THIS IS A PREQUEL to the next Club Volare book, FREE AND BOUND, scheduled for a May 24th release! Like all Club Volare stories, you don’t need to read the previous books to enjoy this one, but you do need to like a whole lot of sugar with your kink. 😉

Chloe Cox is the USA Today bestselling author of the Club Volare series of erotic romances. She’s having WAY too much fun, has an overactive imagination, and loves writing about all of it. She lives for romance, and likes a ton of sugar with her kink.